


open up to the sky

by strifescloud



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, after 3rd plays but before rookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifescloud/pseuds/strifescloud
Summary: He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, now very far into the sea of fan accounts, but when a description popped up with a link to what Itaru thought was a fanart site, claiming to be something about Summer’s Captain Sky’s Pirates and his own troupe’s A Clockwork Heart, he decided to dive a little deeper.What greeted him, though, was not fanart, but a long wall of text.Captain Sky docks at a port in a clockwork town, where he meets the lonely master alchemist, Boyd.Itaru blinked at the screen.(Prompt: One of them finds fanfiction written about their characters, and it gives them Some Ideas - ideas that just won't leave them alone)
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Ikaruga Misumi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	open up to the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BananaSixteen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaSixteen/gifts).



> hello a3 fandom! This is not my usual stomping ground nor is it a ship that I have ever thought about before, but I thought this prompt was a really fun challenge to stretch my brain into unfamiliar territory! I hope you enjoy it ^_^

Sometimes, Itaru wished he was just a little less online. 

It had started innocuously enough - Kazunari had begged and pleaded for Itaru to watch Mankai’s social media accounts while he was swamped with university, and Itaru caved almost immediately, unwilling to put the effort in to standing up against the onslaught of Kazunari’s undivided attention. It was pretty low maintenance for the first few days, just uploading pictures and blogs that the other members had written (correcting Tsumugi’s typos, of course, because he still hadn’t really learned how to find his way around a keyboard). 

But as it dragged on and his responsibilities grew ( _just a few more days, pleaaaaase, Itarun),_ Itaru found himself caving to his own curiosity.

He really hadn’t meant to be so nosy, but with one hand absently tapping continue on his phone and the other scrolling through the Mankai accounts, he couldn’t resist actually reading the stream of replies that rolled in to his latest post. Most of them were pretty innocuous, well wishes from fans and anticipation for the next show - all of which Itaru appreciated, of course, but his interactions with strangers online usually had a different tone. He clicked through to the account of one of the repliers, absently scrolling down their rather bland profile.

But one of their friends seemed a little more vocal, so he clicked through again - a very passionate fan of Tenma’s, it seemed, who then led him to a fan of Yuki’s, and down the rabbit hole he went. He’d never really paid attention to this side of their fans before, trusting Kazunari to handle whatever was going on, and it was honestly kind of nice to see the way different fans expressed their appreciation for the work that their company had done. It made the hard work feel a little more worthwhile, Itaru thinks, skimming a discussion on Spring Troupe’s latest performance. Somebody, at least, noticed the tiny little things they rehearsed over and over again, the subtle movements and changes in line delivery. 

And some of them, he noticed, showed their passion in other ways.

He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, now very far into the sea of fan accounts, but when a description popped up with a link to what Itaru thought was a fanart site, claiming to be something about Summer’s Captain Sky’s Pirates and his own troupe’s A Clockwork Heart, he decided to dive a little deeper.

What greeted him, though, was not fanart, but a long wall of text.

_Captain Sky docks at a port in a clockwork town, where he meets the lonely master alchemist, Boyd._

Itaru blinked at the screen.

Fanfiction? About him - no, his character and Misumi’s character? 

_Misumi’s_?

There was a vague tingle of dread down Itaru’s spine as he scrolled.

It was honestly pretty well written in terms of figuring out the logistics of the clockwork town beyond what they covered in their play, and Itaru was almost considering sending it to Tsuzuru just to appreciate their worldbuilding when his eyes caught on a word a few paragraphs down. He skimmed the rest of the text, scrolling further downwards to reveal the full paragraph.

Captain Sky and Boyd were kissing passionately, Boyd’s warm hand running along Sky’s hips as the captain removed his eyepatch, trailing further down to wrap that hand around Sky’s-

Itaru calmly closed the tab, shutting his laptop with a quiet click, and resisted the urge to scream into his hands.

_Misumi? Of all people?_

If he had stumbled across a fan interpretation of his character screwing anybody else into the mattress, he’d probably think it was funny. But Misumi, Misumi, Misumi-

The thing is that Itaru really, really liked Misumi.

There was a lot of room in Itaru’s heart for the other weirdos and outcasts in their company - Citron was hilarious, but also clearly the heart of Spring Troupe, and Itaru always valued the things he had to say no matter how difficult they could be to decipher. And while he wasn’t as close to the others like Homare or Azuma, he could see them slowly coming out of their shell and living joyfully and authentically, just as he’d begun to do himself in a much emptier dorm, now a long time ago. Masumi was a little intense and more than a little difficult to get along with, but Itaru couldn’t stop reaching out to the insecure, lonely teenager within, an uncomfortable and distorted reflection he thought he could almost recognise. 

But Misumi was a little different. Misumi knocked on his door late at night to give him onigiri if he saw light under the door and didn’t mind that Itaru was raging at the screen. Misumi always listened attentively when Itaru explained something he liked, and even if he always asked if there were triangles it was clear that he still understood what Itaru was trying to say. 

Misumi was like him in a lot of ways, Itaru thought, wielding the way people perceived them as a shield to prevent the bad parts from showing, always running from a sadness they couldn’t escape. He saw it sometimes, when Misumi would come and just sit and chill out in his room, watching Itaru play games and commenting whenever something vaguely triangular came up. It was comfortable, the way Misumi would lean against him and point excitedly at the screen, not minding when Itaru growled infuriated words under his breath. But in the moments of silence there would be something in Misumi’s eyes, sometimes, and Itaru wondered what Misumi sought him out for. 

And maybe Itaru was always hyper-conscious of that arm against his, the warmth that he could feel through his clothes, but he would never admit it. 

But there was a vague unease now at the back of his mind, because he didn’t know if this person had dreamt this up on a whim, or if he’d made a mistake. They were all together at fan events sometimes, so he’d been seen with Summer before, had interacted with Misumi in public before - and if these strangers could read something on his face, then surely the troupe he lived with had realised too. Surely _Misumi_ had realised, and was avoiding it the way he always dodged serious topics.

Misumi was pretty off-limits, Itaru had always thought. No matter how much he wanted to reach out and turn that brilliant smile towards him, close that distance, see if he would keep smiling as Itaru kissed him-

Itaru groaned aloud. There were _ideas_ in his head now, and he wanted them _out_. His poker face was pretty good, but Misumi was a lot more intuitive than he let on, and if he was still having _thoughts_ next time they saw each other it’d probably be very obvious.

That user had just been making stuff up based on their characters, not actually them. It was totally fine, and Itaru was totally cool about it. He definitely wasn’t going to stare at the ceiling all night, trying not to think about kissing Masumi or that he did actually look really good in the pirate outfit. 

Yep, Itaru thought as he climbed into bed, tabbing over into his last game to empty the stamina gauge, it was totally fine.

* * *

Itaru woke long past when his alarm was meant to have gone off, mouth dry and eyes heavy, and wondered futilely if his boss would mind if he just stayed here under his pillows all day.

He hadn’t so much slept as stared at the ceiling between fits of unconsciousness, unfortunately now tormented by whatever part of his brain reading that thing had unlocked - although he supposed it was better than if he had truly slept, because surely he would have dreamt something that would have haunted him far more.

But another day was here, so Itaru rolled out of bed and dressed himself in the person he pretended to be, wondering if his suit jacket could serve to protect him from the eyes of those who knew him well today, rather than those who never would. He dragged himself downstairs - far too late for breakfast, and probably everyone at the table he walked past could see that he looked absolutely horrendous.

“Up late again?” Izumi asked, smiling but her brow drawing together slightly in concern, and Itaru always regretted doing anything that made her worry. She probably thought he had been gaming all night, and that was a perfectly fine assumption to make.

“Something like that.” He answered, and internally winced when it sounded a little too much like the voice he put on for his coworkers. He knew she noticed it - surely some of the others did too, but he turned away, grabbed his coat and slipped into his shoes at the front door, “Anyway, I’m off.”

“You missed breakfast.” She said, and Itaru heard footsteps barrelling towards him. He braced himself instinctively for when Misumi’s arms wrapped around his own arm, tugging insistently until he looked down - and there was that same veiled concern on Misumi’s face, and Itaru tried so very, _very_ hard not to think about-

“Itaru~” Misumi said as Itaru struggled to keep his expression even. Misumi took Itaru’s hand firmly and Itaru suppressed a flinch, all too conscious of their warmth - oh, and there was that hesitation that Itaru knew all too well ghosting across Misumi’s face, hidden beneath the bright smile he always wore. Guilt welled up in Itaru’s chest even as he let Misumi press a perfectly triangular rice ball into his hands. Misumi still hung onto him, but there was a hesitancy in his fingertips, and Itaru swallowed his immediate reaction of _no, it’s not your fault_. He opened his mouth to speak, but Misumi cut him off, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, okay? Make sure you eat that on your way to work,” and there was an exaggerated sternness to his voice, “so that you can be more triangular today.”

“Am I not triangular now?” Itaru asked automatically, because he always liked indulging in what Misumi has to say - but today, he thought he might regret giving him the opening. Misumi frowned back at him, leaning closer and peering into Itaru’s face, and Itaru fought the urge to lean back and get some air between them. He really could not have this play out in front of everyone else - or at all, preferably, since Itaru was a disaster and there was no way he saw this going well. 

“Hmm…” Misumi leaned back again, a sad set to his eyes that Itaru immediately wanted to turn away from. He let Itaru’s arm go, hands fidgeting with each other without anything to hold onto, “No, not a lot like a triangle.”

“Well,” Itaru said, looking away from Misumi’s searching eyes and heading towards the door, “thanks for the food.” He lifted the rice ball in a salute as he shuffled out, blinking at the sudden bright sun, “We’ll see if any of my coworkers comment on my triangle-ness. I’m off.”

“Bye-bye!” Misumi responded, bright and hollow, and Itaru shut the door behind him.

* * *

Itaru stayed late, for once by choice, preferring the mindless grind of work over being stuck thinking about his… _feelings_.

Ugh. He hated having feelings. They were terrible and inconvenient and he always got shitty scores when he was upset over something. 

Although he wasn’t really upset right now, just…

He slipped through the front door quietly, mindful that everyone else would either be asleep or busy. There was nothing he really wanted more than to go grind and not think about his problems, so he hoped his cautious ascent of the stairs was quite enough to go unnoticed. His room was blessedly dark and empty when he reached it, lit only by the ambient standby lights of all his electronics until he flipped one of the dimmer lights on, and Itaru groaned as he collapsed into his well-worn chair.

He wasn’t really upset right now, just that he really liked a guy he worked and lived with and suddenly some random person had accidentally thrown it in his face. And it’s not like he thought saying something to Misumi was a good idea, because he’d never shown any interest in Itaru or _anyone_ like that, so it’d only make things terrible and awkward - and Itaru really loved it here, when he was honest with himself, loved every day and every person in their company, and if he screwed it all up by making Misumi feel self-conscious around him when this was the only place they could all be themselves, then-

There were three sharp knocks at his door. 

“Yeah?” Itaru called, but he knew who it was.

The door cracked open to reveal Misumi’s wide, searching eyes peering through the gap, a cautious grin spreading across his features.

“Can I come in, Itaru?”

_You’re an actor, Chigasaki. Come on._

“Yeah, sure.”

Misumi bounded into his room like a ray of sunshine, and despite himself Itaru felt his shoulders relax a little. Misumi did always make him feel at ease, because Itaru knew he could say anything and it would be all right - judgment and scorn didn’t live within Misumi’s heart.

Well, he could say almost anything. One glaring exception currently burned at the front of his mind.

“Am I more triangular now than I was this morning?” Itaru asked, drawing Misumi’s gaze away from how it wandered across his room, as if Misumi hadn’t seen it dozens of times. Misumi hummed, but didn’t respond, and Itaru let the question dissolve into the night air. 

Misumi eventually stopped staring and clambered over the back of the couch, sitting with his knees curled up and moving his insistent gaze over to Itaru. 

“Let’s play a game!” He said, and Itaru got up and joined him on the couch without really thinking about it. He had kind of planned to just grind his solo games until his brain let him sleep, but if this was what Misumi wanted to do instead of talking about this morning, that was fine. Itaru handed Misumi the controller, switching the screen on with his other hand.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at all the games I have with triangles in them. Here, how about you try to get a score that ends in 333 this time?”

It’s nice, Itaru thought fondly, the way Misumi’s eyes lit up when someone indulged him. That hint of cautiousness melted away like a flower ready to seek the sun, and there was a fresh enthusiasm in his smile as they both turned towards the screen. They gamed for a while in relative silence, except for outbursts of enthusiasm when either of them pulled into the lead, and Itaru thought that it felt nice - normal. Maybe he could brush this morning off as a weird mood, put those thoughts out of his head and pretend everything was fine, so that the moments he spent with Misumi could just stay like this.

“Did I do something wrong?” Misumi split the silence between rounds, and Itaru froze. The small space between them suddenly seemed like nothing at all, and Itaru tried to stop his mind from running through a hundred impossible scenarios (like making a break for it, as if he wasn’t a fragile creature of the indoors and Misumi wasn’t some kind of acrobat).

“No…” Itaru said slowly, trying to press into the arm of the couch without making it obvious, “No, it’s not you.”

Misumi made a sound, like a worried, strained hum, hands digging deep into his pockets with an anxious energy. He produced something from their depths, and within the tight, nervous grip, Itaru saw a familiar object. He didn’t stop Misumi from uncurling his fingers, pressing the triangular object into his slightly clammy hands.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to say.” Misumi said, but there was a sad set to his brow that Itaru wished he could smooth away, “but Kazu always says that talking about things is best, so I tell this triangle about all the bad things that happen. ‘Cause my grandpa gave it to me, so it’s the best triangle, and when the words go into it they’ll become triangular too, right?” 

“Right.” Itaru replied shakily.

“So make sure you tell it what’s up, okay, Itaru?” And Itaru didn’t have time to react before Misumi was leaning forward, throwing his arms around Itaru and squeezing so tightly it was almost painful, and in that hold Itaru came to several realisations.

One, he was being an idiot.

Two, he really had no reason to think that Misumi wouldn’t be cool, even if he didn’t feel the same.

Three, he’d been a bit of an asshole this morning, and Misumi really deserved honesty from him if nothing else.

Four, you do miss all the shots you don’t take.

Misumi let him go when Itaru pitifully tapped his arm, feeling his bones creak under the force of the hug, but Itaru made sure to hold him in place when Misumi shifted a little far backwards. 

And he felt really silly doing it, but he thought of that fan’s writing in his head, just briefly, and thought maybe this was going to turn out okay. He’d played enough otome games to handle this, right?

“Misumi,” Itaru started, still clutching that triangle in one hand, and it was generally best to be blunt with him so he didn’t want to mince words, “you really didn’t do anything wrong. I like you a lot.” Misumi tilted his head, looking a little confused, and Itaru felt his heart pound in his ears, like that annoying sound effect that always played when you were low on health in an FPS, “And I’d like to kiss you if that’s-”

Misumi leaned forward and kissed him. 

It was a little awkward, in part because Itaru wasn’t expecting it yet and partially because neither himself or probably Misumi had kissed many people before. But Misumi’s lips were soft and warm and he didn’t mind when Itaru brought one hand up to his face, disbelieving, as if he might dissolve like sunlight under the touch, and Itaru thought, _oh, hell yeah._

They broke apart and Misumi wrapped his arms around Itaru’s waist again, leaning all his weight onto Itaru’s skinny frame, and Itaru cautiously put one hand on Misumi’s back. He felt a bit like he’d taken on a boss and gotten drops from the wrong loot table, because this wasn’t at all what he expected when he got home - but it was much, much better than he could have imagined.

“Is this why you were weird this morning?” Misumi mumbled into Itaru’s shoulder, and Itaru shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah, kinda.” Probably best not to mention what the fans were getting up to, still, even if it’d brought all this to its conclusion.

“Mmm. I really like you too.” And even if Itaru had guessed by now, it still made him feel weird and warm and awkward to hear it out loud, “You’re like the biggest, bestest super-triangle.”

“Wow, high praise.” He put the triangular ruler back in Misumi’s hand and closed the fingers around it, gently patting them like Misumi had done to him this morning, “I’ll try and spec more into triangle-ness.”

Misumi turned his head up with an exaggerated frown, peering with narrowed eyes into Itaru’s face.

“The way you are is triangular! Don’t change anything, okay?” 

Itaru laughed, and wondered how much Misumi saw through him. He leaned back into the couch, taking the weight, and wrapped his one hesitant hand further around Misumi’s back.

He wished absently that he could preserve this moment forever, but his phone was right there, and Misumi didn’t move as he brought it up to take a badly-angled selfie - it’d have to do. There would hopefully be many more moments, stretching out into infinity, as long as they both remained here, where they belonged.

“Will you kiss me tomorrow, too?” Misumi suddenly said, and Itaru thought _ah, caught again._

“Sure I will. Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that too, if you want.” 

Misumi’s arms wrapped impossibly tighter around his waist as he giggled.

“Good!”

It was a promise Itaru looked forward to keeping.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much for reading!
> 
> title is from death stranding by CHVRCHES, since I finished the game recently and it is my latest obsession 
> 
> please find me on twitter at @strifesclouds


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